


Page

by yeaka



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Demyx pops into Zexion’s work.





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**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom Hearts or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It isn’t until about twenty minutes until his break that he realizes why his bag was so light this morning—he left his book on the coffee table at home. The second it hits Zexion, he tenses, fingers frozen in the soapy water. Marluxia throws him a look, and Zexion instantly snaps back to life, because if he doesn’t, surely someone will ask him what’s wrong. And then he’ll have to explain that he’s torn up over having no book today, and god forbid he actually spend his break letting people _talk_ to him. It’s bad enough they have no break room, no real back space at all, so he’s _forced_ to spend his breaks in the general din of their generic coffee shop. Worse yet, they might ask _why_ he left it, and then he might wind up revealing any innumerous and incriminating details—how, despite his own meticulous nature, his boyfriend’s a complete _slob_ , who often drags him into lewd disarray in the mornings.

Come to think of it, he doubts they even know he has a boyfriend at all. And he’d like to keep it that way. Better to be an enigma than an open book like Larxene, who can never shut up and is not-so-secretly hated by everyone. He enjoys his peace.

And he’s not going to have any today. He knows from past experience that there is no seat in the house truly safe from customers. Even when he’s discarded his apron, they’ll bother him. And the chairs are uncomfortable, difficult to lounge in without a distraction. And besides, he _likes_ reading. His newest novel is a fascinating scifi story of a complex love between three main characters and a slew of memory tampering. He was looking forward to squeezing in a few more pages, since it’s generally too loud (and distracting) to read much at home.

He internally sulks over that for the rest of his assignment with cleaning old cups and forks. But he keeps his face impassive for it. He lets Axel pester him onto til when it’s time for Axel’s break, then busies himself sorting out the many different giftcards stuck in a little rack on the side of the counter.

He gets one customer—a scowling regular with outrageous sideburns and no respect for baristas—and then he’s back to sorting and doesn’t look up again until a heavy volume smacks down on the counter.

It catches him so by surprise that he nearly jumps. He looks up on instinct, searching for the owner of the book rather than eyeing the book itself, and sure enough, he’s met with a wide grin on overtly gorgeous features.

“Hey, babe,” Demyx coos, reaching a hand back through his stylized blond locks. “Forget something this morning?” He tilts his head and winks, which automatically has Zexion’s cheeks heating.

He tries to hold that back, like he does the automatic smile that wants to surface. Somehow, Demyx always seems to make him do that, no matter how hard he fights against it, and no matter how hard Demyx makes him alternatively frown before or after—they disagree on so many things. Like being so obvious in public. And mostly work ethic—Demyx’s lazy to the core, which is why it’s so surprising to see that he actually went out of his way to bring Zexion his book.

Zexion glances down at it and inclines his head forward, letting his slate-blue bangs cover more of his face, hopefully obscuring some of his blush. He mutters a cordial, “Thanks.” Sliding the book across the counter and popping it underneath, he returns his gaze to Demyx, who continues grinning broadly at him. 

When Demyx offers nothing else, suspicion creeps into Zexion’s mind. Because there are no customers in line and Marluxia’s off fetching milk from across the street, Zexion asks, “What’d you really come here for?”

Demyx instantly jerks back, hand lifting to his chest as though he’s been mortally wounded with offense. “What? Can’t I just be a great guy and bring you something? I know you go crazy without those things!”

Zexion hisses, “Shh,” before Demyx shouts loud enough for Axel to hear, then leans over the counter to press, “Come on, you never bother with stuff like that.”

“No, honest, I’m just a super boyfriend and I love you so much—”

“ _Demyx_ —”

Appallingly easy, Demyx breaks: “Okay, I slept in and missed my gig. Which means I got nothin’ to do at all today. So I figured I’d come down and see if you had time for a quickie in the back.”

Zexion glares and doesn’t even know where to start. It’s four in the afternoon. And Demyx was definitely awake when he left this morning. And there is no back, and Demyx should know that, because Zexion’s told him several times when Demyx made the same bad suggestion. As if reading all these thoughts, Demyx gets an apologetic shrug. His charming smile does help melt some of Zexion’s fury.

And he supposes he is lucky, at least, that Demyx hasn’t got his sitar strapped to his back—if he’d come to the shop and started to play, Zexion would’ve had to throw him right out.

Instead, Demyx jokes, “Well, it wasn’t going to pay much anyway—barely enough for coffee. So you got today’s, yeah? I’ll have a caramel macchiato. And I’ll be over there—” he pauses to point to the table in the corner, “—waiting for you to go on break and come comfort me.” 

He doesn’t look like he needs comforting. He skips out on stuff all the time. It drives Zexion crazy.

It’s worse when Demyx leans over the til to peck Zexion’s lips, faster than Zexion can dodge from. Then Demyx is leaping out of reach and waltzing right over to his chosen table, leaving Zexion bright pink. 

He fumes for a few extra seconds, then spots Marluxia slipping back through the doors with a loaded shopping bag.

He busies himself with Demyx’s drink, paying out of his own pocket, and thinks that at least he’ll have something comfortable to lean against when he goes to read.


End file.
